Toy Soldiers
by Ris Fallon
Summary: Jack is hoping the Doctor can return his mortality. Jenny is hoping the Doctor still wants to be her father. Together, they know there's nothing to do but wait-and live a little in the interim.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm officially not allowed to touch my computer after midnight. See the shenanigans my brain gets up to when that happens?

But obviously, since there are at least 10 fics out there with the same idea in mind, I'm not alone in my madness. But you've got to admit, it would be _funny_.

Yes, this is before the writers decided to tear my heartstrings out by killing everything I love (also known as pre-zombie!Owen).

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><p>Gunfire.<p>

Even half delirious from smacking her head against the control council, she would recognize that sound anywhere. She didn't know if the lights dancing before her eyes were caused by a concussion or the flare of gun powder, but Jenny was fairly certain that neither was very good news for her. She tried to move, cried out in pain and surprise, and then tried again. Slowly unbuckled the safety belts, disentangled herself from crumpled metal. Searing pain shot up her leg and made her breath catch. She would have to look at that later. Move, move, move.

Scavengers, that's what they were, she imagined. Locals who had stumbled upon the chance of a lifetime: a shuttle fallen from the atmosphere. They were here for souvenirs, although there was nothing particularly valuable in Jenny's opinion. Food and water rations that were probably destroyed. There were small fires everywhere. She wondered how she was still alive. Maybe she was a ghost.

She snorted. She didn't believe she could die. There was no one who could tell her—except one man, and in the whole, wide universe, she hadn't a clue where to start looking for him.

There was a fight. Shouting. The _thwack-thwack-thwack_ of aircraft. A rush of wind that made Jenny lose her weak grip on the outer lip of the escape hatch and fall back into the craft. It was on its side, she had realized. Dazed, she did not try to move again. The gunfire ceased. The shouting got louder, closer. Metal shifted. She could smell burning. Was it her?

Damn, her leg hurt.

"Is anyone there," a voice yelled. "Owen, with me! There's someone still inside!"

"How did they _survive_ that," she heard a voice saying, coming closer. Hovering over her, looking through the escape hatch. "A girl," the second voice asked wonderingly.

"Questions later, Owen," the first voice snapped. There was the sound of metal scraping, shifting, her head ringing, and a thud beside her that made her cringe in pain. "It's okay, we've got you. You're okay."

"She seems stable," the second voice—Owen—said to the first. A hand touched her neck, and she grimaced. "Knocked around pretty bad, but considering…well…"

"It's better than the alternative. I get it," the first voice said curtly. "Safe to move her?"

"She won't enjoy it, but it shouldn't do any damage to any vital areas."

"There's nothing to take," she murmured.

"Shhh." A hand brushed her hair away from her face before slipping under her head. "You're alright. We're getting you out of here."

"But—"

There was nothing else to say. There wasn't breath enough to speak. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying out again when they picked her up…and she fell into blackness before she could learn how they planned on getting the three of them back up and out of the escape hatch again.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in a pristine-gray room. She shivered. The only thing covering her was a sheet.

"Sorry about that." It was the first voice. She struggled to sit up, but a hand held her down by her shoulder. "You're pretty knocked up. Owen had to do quite a bit of work to patch you up."

"What did they want," Jenny asked. It didn't occur to her to say thank you.

"What," Jack asked, taken aback. "Oh." He waved his hand carelessly. "Alien scavengers. Mostly others who have crashed or who got stranded here. You get them wherever there's a crash, trying to salvage the ship or take scrap metals… Whatever they could get their hands on, really. We've rounded them up though."

"And done what with them?"

"Interrogated them, tried to figure out if they were dangerous and where they were from." Jack was sitting on a chair beside the operation table; they hadn't moved Jenny from it. She wondered if there wasn't anywhere to move her to. He leaned his elbows on the edge of the table and looked at her carefully. "You haven't asked where you are." It wasn't a question, but an observation.

"It didn't seem very important," Jenny said. "It's not as though I can leave, or would know where to go if I could."

"True." He smiled. "You're not exactly local, are you?"

"I'm not anything," Jenny said. She had not returned to her home planet, where the Machine had spit her out, since her 'death'. "I was just making a pit stop for supplies, but I'm not very good at landing yet."

"Well, Ianto thinks we should be able to fix up your ship. It will take a while though. You can stay here in the meantime. Like you said, where else would you go?"

Jenny didn't answer that question. Regardless of its truth—and regardless of the fact that she'd said it first—the lack of choice irritated her.

"There's something else I was wondering though," Jack continued as though there had been no pause. He leaned closer to her so that he could speak in a whisper. Jenny frowned at him. "Something I was hoping you could explain for me."

"I don't—"

"Owen, our medic. The guy who patched you up. He's a little confused about something. Me? I'm mystified. It's very curious."

"And what is it," Jenny asked. She tried to sit up again. Her head pounded as though it was trying to escape the stiff bandages there. This time, Jack didn't stop her. He tightened his lips disapprovingly, but he gave her a hand. He kept it on her back, as though he was holding her up.

"Two hearts," Jack said simply. When she frowned at him, he went on, "There are a few humanoid species with more than one heart, but—"

"But," Jenny asked, cutting over him? Her eyes were hard. Afraid, Jack thought. She looked a child who had been found out.

"Well, Owen didn't really know what he was looking at. But you remind me of someone I know. I'm wondering how you survived the Time War."

Jenny frowned quizzically. The fear was gone, replaced with confusion. Jack was confused too. "Time War?"

"The war with the Time Lords. You _have_ to know about it," Jack asked impatiently.

"The Time Lords?" Jenny's eyes brightened at that. "Oh, I remember."

"That's the war my father fought in. He's a soldier, though he gets mad if you tell him so." She was babbling now in her excitement, eager to know if she had found him at last.

"Your father," Jack echoed. She didn't register his expression. If she had, perhaps she would have given herself pause. But she hadn't, and she didn't.

"Yeah," Jenny said eagerly. "My father. He calls himself the Doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the delay. I wasn't expecting as many final projects as I had assigned, and when they were finally finished writing was the last thing I wanted to do. I'm wading back into the waters, so to speak, and I promised several of you an update. Thank you for the interest and the kind messages of encouragement (and a few of begging, which still made me smile and shake my head simultaneously). This is a very short filler chapter and not at all satisfying, but it was still kind of fun to write and it's a preamble to adventures to come. This might last a little longer than originally planned, mostly because I don't remember everything I originally planned. Here's to an adventure!

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><p>"I think he was a field medic or something, but I know he fought. He said he killed people. I suppose his side won because he's alive, but I don't really know the details. He wasn't very eager to talk about it. I guess it was a bittersweet kind of victory," Jenny said matter-of-factly.<p>

"He wasn't a field medic. At least, not in the way you're thinking. He fixes things. Saves people. He's got a bit of a hero complex," Jack said in a slightly strained voice. "That's why he's called the Doctor."

Jenny screwed her face up in thought as his words sank in. "But—you know him?"

"There aren't a lot of Time Lords left," Jack said drily. He removed his hand from her back and wiped his mouth. "You're his…"

"His daughter," Jenny said, puffing herself up a little bit before cringing. "Ow."

"Bruised ribs. One fractured. Not too shabby, all things considered. What happened?"

"The crash," Jenny asked. "I guess I didn't watch the monitors closely enough and—"

"Not with the crash. Tosh can figure out what went wrong there when she does a scan of the computers," Jack said impatiently. "The Doctor. Why aren't you with him, if you're his daughter?" He paused and then added, "And who's your mother, anyway?"

"Don't have one," Jenny said as though this was the most natural, obvious thing in the world. "But he left before I woke up. Blokes back home said they—he—thought I was dead for good. But I wasn't, and I'm not, and here I am, I guess."

"And here you are," Jack echoed back. His brow was still knit together. "No mother, though. How's that?"

"The Machine," Jenny said simply. It appeared as though she thought everyone ought to have one, for she looked at Jack with quite a pitying look when he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head to indicate that the words meant nothing to him. "That's my mother, I suppose. It takes DNA samples and creates, well—"

"You. People like you," Jack finished for her.

"Children of the Machine. Everyone from back home is one. They do sample collections every morning."

Jack laughed, although Jenny didn't understand why. She pouted in offense while he said, "Your mother's a machine. That makes much more sense now."

"Why's that," Jenny demanded sharply, still looking wounded by his reaction. Jack shook his head, wiping a fake tear of laughter from the corner of his eye.

"Because I can't picture that man with anyone but—" He cut off suddenly, the laughter fading from his face. "Well, let's just say your father's no Playboy. Trust me, I've offered a great game." He winked, trying to bring the laughter back.

"Playboy," Jenny frowned.

"Local term," Jack said airily, waving his hand in front of his face as though to erase the word from the conversation. "Unimportant. The question is, what're we going to do now, Blondie?"

"Jenny," she corrected automatically. She was rather fond of her name. "What about Donna? Do you know her? If you know Father, you _must_ know her. They were thick as thieves when I saw them. Is she still traveling with Father? I'd like to see her. I liked her."

"Donna," Jack said slowly. "No, no. I don't think I've met her." But there was something in his voice that wasn't completely truthful. Jenny scowled at him, but he averted his eyes and changed the subject. "But your father… I guess we should figure out a way to send him a message, huh? I imagine he'd be pretty thrilled to find out you're really okay. Might pop in for a visit. It's been too quiet around here without him," he said with a reminiscent smile.

"I don't like quiet," Jenny said thoughtfully. It was a throw-away comment, really. It meant nothing. But Jack smirked.

"Neither do I," he said. "It's not in my blood."

"Mine either, apparently," she replied. She was watching him curiously. He appeared to be thinking.

"What do you think, Bl—Jenny," he corrected quickly at the irate look that darkened her features. "We can't do much until Tosh finishes the computer scans. And you're still healing some, although we've got ways of speeding that up to a matter of days rather than weeks," he said, eying her carefully. "There's some phone calls to make, but those won't take that much time—and they can't be made until the rest is done, anyway."

"Okay," Jenny said carefully. She wasn't sure what she was agreeing to—if anything. Only that he was saying a bunch of things that she was pretty sure he had said before, things that involved her but did not include her. She was not needed for daily business to go per usual in Torchwood Tower. "So?"

"So," Jack said dramatically. He had a flair for dramatics, she had noticed, with his long pauses and winks and mischievous grins like a scheming child with a handful of mud and grass. "What do you say to making us some hell of a noise?"


End file.
